


show them how you're not the ordinary kind.

by oneandlonely



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneandlonely/pseuds/oneandlonely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments in Sherlock’s and John’s relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show them how you're not the ordinary kind.

**Author's Note:**

> For: daisybellewrites, based on his/her prompt for the ‘johnlockchallenges’ gift exchange.  
> Prompt: John meets Mummy for the first time  
> Author Notes: Well~ I hope you enjoy this! This is my first johnlock fic and I did my best. Oh, and special thanks to simple-gnommish for...everything from calming me down to cheering for me to making me write and breaking me dreams. Oh, and face timing with me until two a.m

**-Getting to know each other**  
  
In many, many ways Sherlock Holmes was probably the worst flatmate John ever had. He rarely ever slept and instead of just reading or watching telly or surfing the internet as most insomniacs do, he spent late nights on the couch playing the violin. Well, playing was hardly the correct word, it was more of figuring out the way to make the loudest, most annoying sounds on the violin. John spent a the first months of their flat sharing sleeping two hours a night and cursing whoever sold a violin to Sherlock Holmes.  
  
He was also the messiest person John had ever known. For heaven’s sake not even his uni roommates left that many notes, books and science equipment laying around in the most random places.Not even on finals and they were med students. No, Sherlock took messy to a whole new level like that one time he found barium peroxide inside a hollow coconut or the time Sherlock spent a week sleeping on the carpet because his bed and the big couch were full of notes and he couldn’t be arsed to gather them until he had finished his experiment.  
  
And even though most of the mess was his fault Sherlock never, ever lifted a finger to help John with the cleaning, hell, he didn’t even bothered to do his own laundry. Ms. Hudson usually did it for him (or, in a few occasions, she asked John to do it, which was completely unfair, really. She was Ms. Hudson, it was almost impossible to deny anything to her).    
  


Curiously, the body parts bothered him the less, even though they seemed to greatly disturb most people. Sometimes John thought there was something seriously fucked up with him. In his own defense, he was a doctor and he had been an army doctor, for crying out loud. He was used to see body parts lying around, hell, he had performed a bunch of amputations overseas. Still, John could probably write pages and pages about every single bad habit the detective had.

  
But, if he had to be completely sincere, he would admit that living with Sherlock Holmes was the best thing that happened to John since he arrived home from Afghanistan. What he said to Mycroft was actually true: he was never bored and that was a good thing. He was much less vocal and got much less stir crazy than Sherlock, but the dull hum of day-to-day life bored him to a point where he started to feel numb.  


It was  how he felt when he started to adapt to living in London once again. Everything had been alright until he got hang of things again and settled into a routine. He started feeling like he was living on a broken record, repeating the same things over and over again. That had been, of course, until he met Sherlock Holmes and got involved in every single strange case the detective happened to accept.

  
  
At first it had been about the thrill of the whole thing. Getting out of the city, missing work, looking for hints, chasing criminals. It made John feel alive. Little by little it had turned out to be about Sherlock, too. About doing everything he could to help him, even just a little bit because Sherlock and him were partners, were friends.  
  


 

  
**-First Kiss**  
  
As a doctor John knew everything there was to know about adrenaline, that it was segregated by the adrenal medulla and how it made your pupils dilate, your heart rate go up, how it incremented your suminister of oxygen and glucose. As an adrenaline junkie, he knew full well how it made you feel. Powerful, invincible, unstoppable, like you could do anything and get away with it. Oddly, enough John wasn’t on an adrenaline rush when he crossed the room in three of his longests strides, grabbed Sherlock’s face with both hands and kissed him square on the lips.  
  
It was soft, almost chaste, with just enough pressure to make it firm and determined. He felt Sherlock tense under his hold and immediately started making up apologies in his head, letting go off the taller man. It was a surprise when he felt Sherlock’s hands on his forearm pulling him closer. Cautiously, Sherlock parted his lips. Tongues and lips meeting for the first time. Sherlock’s movement were clumsy giving away his lack of experience and even though he had relaxed his grip on John’s arm to a soft touch, he hadn’t quite relaxed.  
  
Actually, Sherlock doubted he could completely relax. Not with his mind going into overdrive trying to memorize the way John’s lips felt against his and the way he tasted like Earl Grey and the warmth coming off John’s body so close to Sherlock’s own. After all, it might be the first and last time this happened. God knows what John was thinking, but Sherlock guessed the doctor wasn’t thinking straight.  
  
Slowly, John pulled away. He looked sheepish and maybe a bit scared of Sherlock’s reaction. Specially because the detective was looking at him with no recognizable expression on his face.  
  
“Uh,” John started, realizing that he’d have to explain himself to Sherlock Holmes. Huh, there’s always a first time for everything, he guessed.  
  
“You’re straight” Sherlock muttered. “You’ve made sure that everyone within a mile radius knows it”  
  
“Well, yes” John conceded.  
  
“But you kissed me”  
  
“I never thought I’d see the day where you stated the obvious”   
  
  
  
**-Meeting the parents**  
  
John was absently sorting through their mail- mostly bills and thank you letters for Sherlock (John always felt bad when he saw those, people wrote their earnest gratitude and Sherlock just rolled his eyes and threw them away) when he saw it. A delicate envelope sealed with red wax, addressed to Sherlock in flawless cursive handwriting and no sender address.  
  
“Sherlock!” John called as he got up his couch, wandering into the kitchen.  
  
The detective was absorbed looking at some substance under the microscope and so he did not even bothered looking up at John, well at least John was used to it.  
  
“Would you look up for a minute? Something arrived for you.”  
  
“My next ten minutes are engaged by this and I think you would agree, because this little experiment will give me the final answer to the case Lestrade has been pestering me to take.” Sometimes John wondered how could Sherlock talk so fast. “But after this, I’ll humor you...”  
  
With a shrug John returned to the living room, he was curious about the letter, but not desperate so he could wait, plus he was used to Sherlock’s dedication to his work. He settled on the big couch and returned to this month’s book. He was finally getting to the good part  
  
Awhile later, Sherlock strolled into the living room, his dressing gown flowing behind him in that annoying way he always manage to make it do. The detective looked relaxed a small smile playing on his lips.  
  
"What did you required me for?" Sherlock asked as he plopped down on the couch, right besides John.  
  


John settle his book aside. "Oh, yes, this arrived in the mail. It's quite curious, isn't it? I thought no one used wax seals anymore"

 

The smirk was wiped clean from Sherlock’s face the moment he saw the envelope. His features becoming a mixture of fear and dread and something else John could not quite place. Slowly, almost mechanically, he opened the letter and read it carefully.

 

"What is it, Sherlock?" At this point John was genuinely worried. It had to be something big to make Sherlock act like that.

 

"Mycroft told Mummy about our relationship and though she's upset because I did not tell her myself. She says she wants to meet you, so she's inviting us home for a cup of tea."

 

John blinked. Oh. He looked at Sherlock, his face was carefully wiped clean of all emotion. John hated when he did that. And really, John shouldn’t be that surprised. He knew that both Holmes brothers were, in fact, Mummy’s boys. He’s seen Sherlock handwriting letters ‘because Mummy doesn’t like it any other way.’ and he knows Mycroft visits her at least once month. In fact, it was a surprise that this didn’t happen before. Well, maybe...

 

“Sherlock...are you...you don’t want me to meet your mum?” John asked. The underlying are you ashamed? way to transparent for John’s taste.

  
“Don’t be obtuse, John” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. It’s...just...my mother can be a handful. I was just postponing your imminent meeting, but I guess I can’t anymore. So, are you okay with going there the next weekend? Unless you’d rather not meet her...”  
  
“No, I want to meet her” He replied quickly and it was truth. He had always been curious, to say the least. “Next weekend’s fine.”  
  
Sherlock nodded curtly and went to reply his mother’s invitation.  
  


****

  
A train ride and two cabs later they arrived at Sherlock’s house. Well, house was not the word John would have used. Manor was more like it. A ridiculously big, white manor with a huge garden full of colorful flowers and perfectly trimmed bushes. For the first time in a long while John felt intimidated.  
  
“Sherlock Holmes, are you rich?”  
  
“No” Sherlock answered simply as the strolled down the garden.  
  
John raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”  
  
“I’m not. My parents had a lot of money. I don’t.”  
  
“Point taken. But, you know, it would have been nice to warn me about this.” John told him.  
  


The detective didn’t comment, but he took John hand in his, lacing their fingers before knocking on the front door. A moment later they heard a voice saying

 

“No, George, I’ll open it myself.”

 

A second later the door opened revealing a slim, tall woman, with prominent cheekbones and wavy grey hair. Something in the way she stood imposed respect, but the way she smiled kindly at her made her seem less intimidating.

 

“Sherlock, dear!” She cried out as she hugged her son.

 

“And you must be John Watson, am I wrong?” She asked once she was done kissing Sherlock’s cheeks.

 

“That’s me”

 

“I’m Helena Holmes, but I guess you already figured that one out, huh?” She winked at him. John couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you” She said taking his free hand into hers. “Come on in, sweethearts.”

 

She lead them inside the house. They crossed the foyer and walked across long halls painted a soft peach hue. Here and there there were family pictures hanging on the walls. John expected them to be those family pictures taken by a professional in which everyone looks rather uncomfortable, but when he looked at them more closely he found that they were normal pictures. A kid Mycroft dressed up in a school uniform, looking sleepy; Ms. Holmes much younger carrying a baby in her arms; both Holmes brothers opening Christmas presents; Sherlock around age eight dressed up as a pirate. Wait.

 

“You did wanted to be a pirate! I thought Mycroft was kidding.”

 

Sherlock looked at him like a cow looks an oncoming train, a small blush tinging his pale cheeks.

 

“Well...”

 

But Ms. Holmes interrupted any attempt Sherlock could made of saving his dignity. “Yes, he was slightly obsessed with the idea. He made us take him to the sea and escaped in search of real pirates that could train him.”

  
John tried futilely to contain his laughter. Sherlock let go on his hand and crossed his arms, his sulky expression only made John laugh harder.  
  
“Wonderful” Muttered Sherlock angrily.  
  
“Oh, come on”  
“Let him be, darling. He’s always been moody” Ms. Holmes smiled brightly at him. “Now, I thought we could have tea on the conservatory, since today is such a nice day.”  
  
And as she said these words she opened the doors to a round room with glass walls. There was a coffee table on the center surrounded by chairs; an incredibly fluffy-looking loveseat on a corner and potted flowers here and there.  
  
“Go ahead, sit” Ms. Holmes urged them. “George!” She called loudly.  
  
Not a full minute later a tall, old man dressed in a vest arrived. His face and voice lacked any kind of emotion “Yes, madam?”  
  
“George, could you bring us some tea? and biscuits?”  
  
“Of course, madam”  
  
John looked at Sherlock not saying a word, but his whole expression screaming _‘a butler, really?’_  Sherlock just smiled smugly.  
  
“Look at you two, you’re adorable together” Interrupted Ms. Holmes, she looked positively delighted. "It’s such a shame I had to find out the way I did. I am very hurt, Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
“I’m sorry. I was going to tell you...eventually” Sherlock mumbled.    
  
She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyways. “Of course” Then she focused her look on John. “But the damage’s done. Let’s talk about you, honey”  
  


“Uh” John waited for a question, but Helena keep looking at him expectantly. He guessed he’d have to fill the blanks. “Well, I’m a doctor, I used to be in the army. Afghanistan. We met because we both needed a flatmate.”

 

“Oh! Was it love at first sight?”

 

“Such thing does not exist” Sherlock said.

 

“The fact that you don’t believe in it, doesn’t make it any less real” She winked at him.

 

“No, actually, I wanted to kill him the first few weeks” And he thought that he shouldn’t say to his mother in law that he wanted to murder his son, but there was something about Ms. Holmes that made him unable to lie to her.

  
Instead of the disapproval look he was waiting for John heard a warm chuckle.  “He does seem to have that effect on people, which is weird because he’s such a nice boy”  
  


_Right_. John thought. Sherlock was a lot of things, but nice wasn’t the first one that came to his mind. When he looked at him, Sherlock was wearing the exact same expression as a child who just won an argument.

 

“You’re five, you know?”

 

“I second that” George had returned with a silver plate and apparently, opinions.

 

“Oh, shut up, George”

 

“Sherlock! Manners!” Exclaimed Ms. Holmes, scandalized.

 

“Don’t worry, Ms. Holmes, I’m used to Mr. Sherlock less than satisfactory etiquette.”  George said as he set the teapot and the cups on the table.

 

“Oh, fantastic! Opinions” Sherlock’s frown turned into a dangerous smile. “Tell...”

 

At this point John, stepped on his foot and sent him a warning look. Of course, George did not missed this, he learnt to pay attention to every little detail after a lifetime working for the Holmes.

 

“Ah, so you have finally found someone who can keep you under control, Mr. Sherlock” George commented smugly.

 

"You know? For a butler, you're extremely rude" John said conversationally. "Why don't you just go fetch more biscuits or something"

 

"Who do you think you are? You can’t give me orders just like that..." George spat angrily.

 

"Thank you, George, you may leave now" Ms. Holmes interrupted calmly, as she poured some milk into her tea. John suspected she had been seeing this fights for years.

 

George looked indignant, but obeyed anyways. He left the room with his head held high, that until Sherlock shouted:

 

"And tell your wife to say hi to the milkman for me"

 

"What?!" George turned around quickly. "You are joking, right? This is one of your stupid mental games, isn't it?"

 

"The fun part is that you'll never know."

 

As George left, Sherlock smiled, a mixture of triumph and viciousness he often got when he insulted Anderson's intelligence.

 

"Ah, poor old George can be a bit grumpy at times" Said Ms. Holmes rather fondly.

 

"He just hates me."

 

"Don't say that, sweetheart" Ms. Holmes told him, shaking her head. "He's just...a bit grumpy. That's it. With time I'll turn into a grouchy old lady, too, you know?"

 

"I don't think you're physically able to be in a bad mood, Mum"

 

"Nonsense!" She said. "The other day I had a row with the baker."

 

"Probably because he gave you extra change." Replied Sherlock. "And it was probably you telling him 'sweetheart, you've given me an extra quid' and he had to count it again, because he's always so sure about his math"

 

"Well, yes, it was along those lines" Helena Holmes blushed slightly. "Oh, well, take a biscuit, they're the ones you like."

  
  


*********

  
  


"Sherlock, dear, could you go and fetch me some more milk" Ms. Holmes asked kindly.

 

"But there's milk in the creamer"

 

"Yes, but I want warm milk. That one's already cold" She explained, patiently.

 

"Why don't you ask George?" Her son replied, sounding a bit too much like a spoiled child. Well, no surprises there, he was a spoiled child after all.

 

"Okay, Sherlock. Get lost for a while so I can talk with John in private." She asked him somehow managing to sound perfectly sweet.

 

Sherlock smiled at her, pleased. "I just wanted to hear you say it." Then he turned to wink at John before leaving the room, humming a cheerful tune.

 

Once they stopped hearing Sherlock's little tune, John broke the silence.

 

"Should I be worried? Will you give me a 'don't break his heart or else' speech?" He was only partially joking.

 

Ms. Holmes laughed. "No, no. That speech belongs to Mycroft and he'll be completely bummed out if I take this opportunity to use it from him. Honestly, the kid's been wanting to give that speech since...well, I think it was since Sherlock told us he was gay."

 

"Huh. It never occurred to me that Mycroft cared that much about his brother"

 

"Are you kidding? Those two adore each other. They just have a weird way to show it"

 

"I wouldn't use the word adore, but you're their mother. I guess you know better"

 

"That's the perfect answer, John" Slowly, the smile faded, for the first time in that evening Ms. Holmes was wearing a different expression, a sad one. She set her teacup aside. "I...I just want you to know that he loves you."

 

"I know" John said, feeling confused.

 

"Yes, but...he really, really loves you." She sighed. "Sherlock...he's not very good with these things, with showing affection I mean. He's not...he doesn't likes physical ways of showing affection. I think the only times he's ever hugged me are my birthdays and Mother's Day and I think he has never told another human being that he loves them, but he does.  Sherlock has a big heart, he just hates to admit it." She took a pause, but going by her expression she still had more to say and so, John waited.

  
  


"He probably never says it but he adores you, it's written in the way he looks at you"

 

At this point John couldn't help himself from saying. "The way he looks at me? That sounds a bit movie-ish, don't you think?"

 

"Maybe, but it's true. He looks at you like...like you're the single most interesting thing he's ever seen. He...detaches himself from the world, but when you speak he's always paying attention. Even when he's acting like he's not. He loves you and he'll probably never tell you, but he'll always show it so pay attention. I want you to remember that, alright?"

 

"Yes, ma'am" Was all John could say, he was a bit baffled by the speech.

 

"I knew I was going to like you." The smiled returned easily to her face. "Sherlock, dear, you can come back!" She called loudly.

 

A few minutes later Sherlock re entered the room.

 

"Ah, you're still alive" He told John as he sat next to him. "Had a good chat?"

 

"It was wonderful." Answered Ms Holmes.  "Now, darling, tell me more about that case you were talking about before"

 

***************

"Are you sure you guys don't want to stay the night? You're going to arrive at London very late, plus George and I would use the company ." Ms. Holmes told them, there was a clear hint of hope in her voice. John guessed a mother never liked to see her sons go away.

 

"No, I'm sorry. John has to work the shift tomorrow's evening and we won't make it on time if we leave tomorrow's morning." Sherlock explained and maybe John was being delusional but he looked a bit disappointed.

 

"Oh, well. I had to try" She shrugged like she was expecting that answer anyways. "I'll walk you two to the door."

 

And with that the three of them left the sunroom. Sherlock and his mother walked side by side, leaving John a few steps behind. As they walked through the corridors Ms. Holmes started talking in whispers, trying to keep the conversation private.

 

"He's such a sweetheart, Sherlock, I'm glad you're with him. Keep him around"

 

"That's the plan, Mum" Sherlock answer. "Keeping him around until he gets fed up of me."

 

"In that case you'll be together forever" She assured him. "He won't leave you, darling, and don't even try to discuss that, remember: mothers know best."

 

"Whatever you say, Mum"

 

"That's my boy!"

 

They arrived to the front door, for a second the three of them stood silent in the doorstep, until Helena pulled both of them into a warm hug. The kind of hug only moms can give.

 

"It was very nice to meet you, John Watson" She told the doctor holding both of his hands in hers. "Don't let Sherlock get in too much trouble, alright?"

 

"It was nice to meet you too, Ms. Holmes. And I won't. I promise." He said, not bothering to hide the warm smile.

 

"And you," Ms. Holmes said, turning to his son.  "When you finally ask him to marry you I'm expecting to be the first one to get the happy news, understood?"

 

And although Sherlock's 'yes, mum' was completely neutral and void of any kind of emotion the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away.

 

"And both of you come visit me soon, it gets impossibly boring in here."

 

"Of course, Ms. Holmes"

 

"Now, go or you're going to lose your train." She said, pushing both of them lightly.

 

"Goodbye!" They said as they made their way back to the main road to catch a cab.

 

"Your mom's...she's really sweet." Commented John as they walked. "How come you're not?"

 

"Such a sweet talker, John. " Sherlock retorted faking annoyance, but smiling nonetheless.

  
  
  
**-Being Domestic**

  
“So...that’s another case solved” John announced, closing the door behind Lestrade. The detective inspector had been on their flat taking their declarations. “I still can’t believe someone would use a child to murder people. ”  
  
“It was obvious.” Sherlock replied shrugging. “I’ll call the delivery, then”  
  
It had become sort of their thing. Every time a new case was solved they went out to eat and if they were too tired or just too lazy, they would order in. It started due John’s insistence on Sherlock eating something after a case, since he completely refused to do it when working on one. The detective terrible eating and sleeping habits drove him slightly insane. He was a doctor after all, it was in his system to care for people.  
  
Of course, it was more than that. Sherlock wasn’t just people. He was, well, the love of his life, as cheesy as that might sound. And maybe John couldn’t quite change all of Sherlock’s habits, since those were deeply rooted in his brain, but he could try and take care of him. He could sit on the couch with Sherlock’s head in his lap and stroke the detective’s hair until he fell asleep and when he ates he could seat right besides Sherlock and offer him bites of his food or even try to get him to eat the vitamin gummy bears when Sherlock’s sweet tooth kicks in.  
  
“Yeah, get me...”  
  
“Fried rice, the dezhou chicken, a side of wantons and  Cha siu bao, I know” Interrupted Sherlock. John couldn’t help but smile.  
  


****

  
  
  
Sometimes John watched telly. He was more of a book bloke, but sometimes he watched telly. Usually, it was around noon with Ms. Hudson, but sometimes it was late at night, when he couldn’t sleep. That was one of those nights.  
  
It was the time when infomercials and terrible soap operas and repeated episodes of old series dominated the schedule. He had settle for some medical drama. He liked those, they made him laugh with all the crazy stuff they portrayed happening in hospitals. Reality was far more boring.  
  
The sound of footsteps startled him out of the trance the telly got him into. He cursed himself for waking up Sherlock, the man barely slept at all and John was the main supporter of the ‘Sherlock needs to sleep more’ campaign.  
  
“Oh, hey, I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to bed.” He tried softly.  
  
Sherlock shook his head no and sat next to him on the couch.  
  
“Can’t sleep if you’re not there” He explained, voice rough from sleep.  
  


The detective took the quilt Ms. Hudson had knitted for them and threw it over them. Then he rested his head on John's shoulder.

 

“Oh god, this series is terrible” Sherlock murmured watching the screen. “It’s so obvious he’s screwing the nurse”

 

John chuckled it was far more entertaining watching telly with Sherlock and hearing his constant string of comments about how dumb the characters where. Plus, Sherlock’s warmth next to him was more than welcomed.

 

He didn’t remembered when he fell asleep, but he woke up with the telly still on, now passing a commercial about tires and Sherlock draped around him.  John considered turning off the telly, but decided to stay like that just a little while more...

  
  
  
**The Proposal**  
Surprisingly enough, Sherlock proposed.  He didn't got down one knee, of course not, he was above that. They were watching some action film on the telly John's arm around Sherlock, who was curled up against his side  
  
As the character on screen hijacked a plane using a bobby pin, Sherlock looked up at John. The doctor looked back at him. Blue eyes meeting green ones. They stayed a while that way, just looking at each other. Barely breathing that's when Sherlock blurted out:  
  
"Marry me?"  
  
John choked a bit. He almost asks "are you serious?" but the thing was: Sherlock never said thing he didn't mean, much less things like this. Surprise couldn't even begin to describe what John was feeling at the moment. He had long ago resigned to Sherlock's utter disagreement towards marriage.  
  
"Going by your silence, I think I should be worried, but your frown indicates that you're thinking about it and the twitch on the corner of your mouth means that you're pleased with the request so you'll most likely say yes."  
  
"Do you have to do that now?" John asked shaking his head. He wasn't sure if he was amused or exasperated.  
  
 _Natural defense mechanism_. Sherlock thought. Instead he said. "I can't turn it in and off. Sorry."  
  
"Part of me feels like saying no just to go against you." John told him.  
  
Sometimes, when Sherlock really wanted something, he looked at John pleading with big green eyes. It was the most effective puppy dog eyes John had ever faced and he couldn't say no to them. This was one of those times.  
  
"Yes, you stupid git." John answered before snogging Sherlock senseless.  
  
Both of them were smiling dopily at each other when they finally pulled apart, well, that until Sherlock jumped up the couch like a cat sprayed with water.  
  
“Where are you doing?” Asked John, puzzled.  
  
“I’ve got to call Mummy, of course” His boyfriend, no, fiancé, announced.  
  
John let out a cheerful laugh. “Go on then, tell her I say ‘hi’”


End file.
